The Flipside: Drabbles, Dabbles, and Oneshots
by Taste of Cinnamon
Summary: A collection of oneshots about everything and anything imaginable. Chapter 2--Escapade Almost in a Broom Closet: Severus Snape and a distraught Lily Potter, for a lack of a better word, collide. Intrigue? Naturally.
1. The Flipside

**The Flipside: Drabbles, Dabbles, Oneshots, and Mindless Fun. **

**Author's Note:**

**I tend to be a bit long winded. You were warned.**

**This is basically a collection of oneshots. The ones I scribble out at three in the morning because I just **_**had**_** to have that last cup of coffee or because dammit, I just don't want to finish that lab report. Some are short, some are long. Some are (attempts to be) funny, some are sad. Most will probably end up being little drabbles (and dabbles!) with no plot, no purpose, and no planned outcome. A lot of them will be for my own enjoyment only, thus, some won't be fun for my readers as others. This is pretty much thrown together and the oneshots will likely have no connection to each other. I'm only doing this because I tend to crank out oneshots like (throw in a witty analogy here) and it seemed not-good to have about fifty of them in my stories list. I can only hope, however, that you guys will see something nice in this. I think that's all I had to say. **

**Here we go.**

**--- **

**Don't get me wrong, I love the Marauders. If they were liquid I'd take a bath in them (dirty!). But I've always thought that the guys on the flipside of the coin, the other end of the great hall, etc—namely, the slytherins—would have had a similar thing going for them. A group of friends looked at in awe/fear by the rest of the school and with just as grand & marvelous a heyday as the Maurauders, except that they wear green scarves instead of crimson. Oh, and on they're all way to become Death Eaters. I thought I'd pay them a little tribute. **

**Anyway. This fic is slightly AU, but only in that I stuck Lucius, Rudolphus, Snape, Narcissa, and the Maurauders all in the same year at Hogwarts. It's only slightly deviating from canon, the way I see it, and I'm only doing it because I realized halfway into the fic that they probably **_**weren't**_** in the same year, but was too lazy/couldn't fit it into the plot/just didn't want to change it. **

**I have to warn you, though, this one is quite long. I did not anticipate it to be this long, and I apologize. If you feel daunted—understandable, I assure you—I might advise you to read one of my other oneshots to see if you like me as an author before tackling this fic, or to wait until the next 'installment' of this collection is finished, which will be within a week, I'm sure. The rest will likely not be so long.**

**Pretend I wasn't too lazy to do a disclaimer.**

**The Flipside**

_TasteofCinnamon_

Lucius Malfoy woke up one cool, drab Tuesday morning in a decidedly bad mood. Something, a gnat or a fly perhaps, had been bothering him all night, and it didn't help that he had a charms examination at noon that he'd neglected to study for. To top all that, something dreadful was in the air, something palpable and dark, something that just screamed "Something big is happening today. Yes young man, something that involves you. And no, it will not be good."

Sighing, Lucius yawned and shook his sleep muddled head, pushing down the covers and shivering in the morning air. Cold. And that only served to make him descend into an even darker mood. Cold could only mean that Christmas was drawing near again. Lucius had never liked the insipid holiday. The false cheer, the jolly merriment were, one could put it, never his thing. And he didn't particularly look forward to having to return to his cold hollow hall of a home to have his mother and her ladies fawn over him and to look after his increasingly ill father.

Quickly, he pulled a silver robe about his shoulders before turning to reach into his sock drawer. He fumbled for a few seconds and finally pulled out a rolled up gold and green striped pair, which he wrinkled his nose at before hurling it forcefully into the 4-poster bed on his right. He waited.

_Thud_. Vaguely Lucius wondered how thick a head one would have to have to have a falling sock make such a—

"_Ow_."

"8 o'clock," Lucius said smoothly, now pulling on another pair of socks.

There was a rustling of bedclothes and the curtain on the other 4-poster was pulled back to reveal a pair of charcoal-grey eyes over a rather large sharp nose and a pair of pale, thin lips.

"I would consider it a favor done to me if you would stop chucking your old socks at me every morning," Rudolphus muttered, tossing the offending item back to his friend.

Lucius caught the projectile and dropped it back into the drawer. "I can't help if I get an exquisite thrill every time I hear that screech."

"Excuse me," the other boy interjected, yawning and glancing at the clock on his bedside table, "I do not screech."

"There are many people who would testify to the contrary."

Rudolphus snorted. "At the very least you could choose another pair. I'm getting tired of having the first thing I wake up to every day be your same wretched green socks."

Lucius curled a lip. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm sure," Rudolphus muttered darkly, then—"What time did Snape get back last night, do you know?"

"I didn't know he was gone."

"He wasn't here when I got back, and he wasn't in the common room."

"I don't see why you're so interested."

Rudolphus scoffed. "I'm not," he said.

"Who knows what Snape does in his spare time," Lucius replied coolly, "Probably scribbling around in that Bloody book he's always lugging around."

"Maybe he finally got himself a girlfriend. Listen, have you seen my potions essay?"

"Check the common room." Lucius grabbed his toiletry bag and made his way into the communal bathroom. "No way Snape has a girlfriend," he called as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush, "have you seen the way girls look at him, poor bloke."

Before Rudolphus could reply, a hooked nose suddenly appeared from another bed. "I can hear you two perfectly, you know," Severus Snape said calmly as he reached for his robes.

Lucius only chuckled. "I think Rudolphus is concerned for you, Severus," he said around a mouthful of toothpaste to which the accused gave another snort and cried "I was merely making conversation."

"I'm touched," Snape said, dressing quickly.

"So tell us, Severus. What're you writing in that book of yours? Keeping a diary now, are we?"

Severus' eyes darkened immediately. "It's private."

"Everything's private to you," Rudolphus replied. "If you won't tell me, I'll just take a look for myself." And he reached out and grabbed the heavy black volume off of Severus' night table.

Immediately he jumped back as if scorched, a hiss escaping his lips as he dropped the book.

"By Salazar!" he exclaimed, his eyes wild, "What the fuck, Snape?"

But Severus was calmly fastening the last buckle on his bookbag. He scooped the dropped book up and tucked it under his arm.

"You're not half-blood," he said smiling slightly as he swept out, leaving Lucius and Rudolphus staring after him.

After a few moments of silence, Lucius broke into laughter.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Rudolphus muttered darkly, rubbing his hand were the book had scorched him. "I don't know why he's so bloody proud of it. As if being a halfblood is something to be proud of."

"Well," replied his friend, still trying to catch his breath, "we all have to have something to be proud of, don't we?"

"Tell that to him when the Dark Lord finally—" Rudolphus broke off silently and the two boys stared at each other silently, Lucius' laughter had now completely dissipated as he shot his friend a look that said plainly "it's better not to mention _him_ here. Be careful." After a few seconds, Rudolphus shrugged and picked up his books.

"Didn't he even brush his teeth?"

Lucius's face immediately took on a slightly green hue. "He probably does it in the downstairs bathroom," he said firmly after a brief pause.

"Yeah." Rudolphus agreed, looking slightly disturbed himself. "Yeah, he probably does."

And that was the end of that.

---

Narcissa had been waiting at the foot of the stairs leading down to the boys dormitory with her arms crossed and a sour, disapproving look on her beautiful face for 15 minutes now, and she was growing increasingly impatient. She had half a mind to go down and get the boys herself and had put her foot on the first step when they emerged.

"You'd think you two could give a girl a warning," she said coolly to them, uncrossing her arms and adjusting her bag. "If you're going to keep arriving so late, at least let me know to bring a book."

"Don't nag, 'Cissa," Lucius said, and the three moved toward the door.

"I could have written a letter to Mother and Father about coming over to your house for Christmas, and had it sent in the time I was waiting for you."

"Yes, and I could have built a house in all the time you've made me wait for you while you had 'one last word' with Professor Slughorn about how those two inches missing on your report is made up by your impeccable discussion of spiders' legs in 5th century potion making. I always say, if you would just sleep with him already, he'd give you that grade you don't deserve in the first place."

"And what is that supposed to imply, Lucius?" Narcissa snapped, her blue eyes dangerously flinty.

"Only that everyone and everyone sees the way he looks at you." Lucius shot her a smug look.

"You can stop there, Lucius," she said coolly as they reached the great hall and made their way to the slytherin table.

But Lucius would not relent. "Like a delicious morsel of lamb at a Christmas feast."

At the look of pure disgust and shock Narcissa shot him, he chuckled. "I'm only teasing, Cissa," he said. "Nobody serves lamb at Christmas, in any case. Morning Bellatrix, Regulus."

Regulus Black, sitting across from them, returned his greeting succinctly, but his cousin Bellatrix who was already bent over a bowl of oatmeal, merely lifted her deep, dark eyes to Lucius. As always, he was struck by the depth and coldness already present in a girl only slightly older than him. He stopped himself before he could shudder, and couldn't help but feel all the morning's sense of foreboding and suspense settle upon him again.

"Sleep well?" he asked of her superficially, for lack of anything better to say. Loathe as he was to admit it, he always felt ill at rest around her, as if all the air around the girl was charged, heavy with something deep and cold. He always felt as if he was around her for too long, he would suffocate, or worse, freeze to death.

"Fine, Lucius," Bellatrix replied, a small smile lifting her blood red lips.

Fortunately Lucius was spared from having to reply, as Rudolphus, sitting on his right, took over the mantle instead and the pair struck up a conversation so full of heavy implications that Lucius felt slightly ill. To his left, Narcissa was looking unfriendly as she deftly spread a thin layer of marmalade over a slice of plain rye toast. He sighed.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius turned in the direction of the deep calm voice and found himself face to face with a solemn looking headmaster. Dressed in deep grey robes with patterns of swirling stars, Dumbledore gave the impression of a dark, calm, powerful storm brewing.

"Yes?" Lucius said, nonplussed.

"I have received a letter from your mother this morning."

Lucius' clear blue eyes clouded, and he felt his stomach sink. "_You _received it?" he asked, trying not to let his apprehension show.

The headmaster gave a small smile. "I read it, yes," he said gently, "It contains sensitive information."

"Then it was private!" Lucius snapped.

"Obviously your mother thought so. Important enough that she has asked you be excused from classes for this next week. You will attend your classes today and be on the train home tonight after dinner. We won't be expecting you back until after Christmas."

His mother wanted him home. His mother wanted him home. Now, despite the fact that break would start in a week. His stomach now somewhere near the proximity of the floorboards, Lucius said nothing. Instead, he made his distaste known by shooting Dumbledore his darkest glare. Nonplussed, the latter merely reached into a pocket somewhere in his voluminous robes and pulled out an opened envelope.

"I'd like to see you in my office after your classes, Mr. Malfoy," he intoned, extending the letter to Lucius, who took it with a badly concealed grimace. "Don't worry; you shall have plenty of time to pack." He smiled gently when Lucius remained silent. "I will be expecting you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, Professor," Lucius muttered.

"Fantastic," the headmaster winked. "Good luck on your examination."

"So?" Narcissa asked, trying to look over Lucius' shoulder as Dumbledore swept away.

"What?" he snapped.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, what does it say? Why do you have to leave?"

Lucius hesitated, looking down at the letter in his hands. Abruptly he slipped it inside the pocket of his robes without opening it, turned away, and reached for the pitcher of orange juice. "Nothing."

"But—"

"_Nothing_, Cissa. Don't pry."

Sensing his unwillingness to talk, Narcissa reluctantly returned to her breakfast, although a curious, dissatisfied frown remained on her face and she continued to study him carefully over her toast.

Unfortunately, certain others weren't so observant, and even more unfortunately, these certain others happened to be the two worst for the situation.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" sneered an all too familiar voice, "can't handle us anymore? Did you have to take time off to nurse your poor, fragile feelings?"

Lucius tensed immediately, and he felt like a threatened wolf as he physically bristled.

_Just let this one go,_ he told himself. _Don't get involved; just let this one go._

"You know, we'll miss you, Malfoy. You were always our favorite to make a complete fool out of…No, well, Snivellus beat you, but don't worry, you were a close second."

_Keep eating. Let them have their fun, and they'll go away._

"Maybe you'll finally get that haircut over break, donate it to a wigmaker. I know many little girls that would die to have your hair."

Unable to take it any longer, Lucius turned around to face the speaker.

"Go play with your little snitch, Potter," he shot back coldly, "It's just about the only thing you could ever catch, anyway."

Immediately James' hazel eyes narrowed under his unkempt, flyaway hair. "I think the weasel wants to play, Sirius," he jested to the lean dark haired boy beside him. "What are you trying to say, weasel?"

"Nothing," Lucius replied caustically. "Forgive me, I must not be having a good morning. Oh yeah, has that Mudblood girl Evans said yes to you? No? Well. I guess even the Mudbloods won't go for you, Potter."

"Better than having to have your parents _find_ you a girlfriend because no girl in her right mind would ever go out with you," Sirius Black, always at James' side, cut in.

Lucius opened his mouth to deny Sirius' claim, but was cut off by Narcissa, who had stood up angrily. "I wouldn't direct any insult to me," she said, chin up, "when half the people in our family would love to have your traitorous head on a plate." Lucius had to take a moment to admire the daggers her eyes shot at the Gryffindors.

"Ignore him, Cissa," Bellatrix said soothingly to her younger sister, reaching across the table to pat her hand while never taking her black hateful eyes off Sirius. "When he finds himself cornered and pissing himself in an alley somewhere, he'll be begging for us to save him."

Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter. "Better to be laying dead in that gutter than ever ask for your help. You're all just a bunch of toads, the lot of you. You'd think being a pureblood was a sign of royalty or something. So, go on, Malfoy, tell us what Mommy's letter said."

Most of the Great Hall had stopped what they were doing to watch now, and Lucius could see several frightened first years looking between the two groups, not sure which to be more frightened of.

"I would, but why take up your precious time?" he replied sarcastically, "I'm sure you'd much rather be gluing your lips to the ass of that new Russian Astronomy professor. 'Oh Professor, I don't quite understand the influence of witchcraft on 7th century astrology, can I drop by after class with a bottle of butterbeer? We can share.'"

"What, Malfoy," James jested, "Your mother misses her precious baby again? Oh, I know, it's your _father_, isn't it. Still sick, I'd wager?"

"Dead, more like, James," Sirius said. "Am I right, Malfoy? Is daddy done for? Has he kicked the bucket? Taken on more than he could handle, has he?"

This was too much for Lucius to take. Something inside him snapped and he slammed down his orange juice, pulling out his wand with the full intention of cursing Sirius and James to a million pieces, consequences be damned. However, just as he opened his mouth to bellow out a hex, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he whirled about, fuming.

"That's enough, boys," Professor Dumbledore, back again, intoned firmly. He paused, glancing at Narcissa and Bellatrix. "And girls," he added. "Mr. Malfoy, put away your wand. I would rather not spend the rest of my morning writing letters of apology to the parents of Mr.'s Potter and Black, explaining to them why their sons were found with missing limbs. There will be no more fighting, am I understood?" Somehow, he managed to take in the entire Great Hall with his gaze, and several of the younger students shivered.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. "Perhaps we need to move our appointment to now, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. "I could let your professors know—"

"No." Lucius ground out. He pushed the headmaster's hand off his shoulder, grabbed his bag, and strode away, chest heaving. Behind him, Narcissa and Rudolphus exchanged a quick glance and ran after him out into the entrance hall.

"Embarrassments to the wizarding race, the lot of them," Lucius muttered as the pair caught up, half running to keep up with the pace, "you'd think the blood running through their veins was nothing more than rainwater."

"Yes, well, take heart in the knowledge that with luck some day very soon they'll find themselves at the wrong end of a wand." Rudolphus paused thoughtfully. "Mine, hopefully."

"Shh," tsked Narcissa. "You'd do better to watch yourself around here, Rudolphus."

He turned his head sharply her way. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore's a fucking idiot, idiot," Lucius snapped, cutting off Narcissa's reply. His response elicited surprised looks from the both of them. He stopped walking and glared at them. "What? He is. And you are."

Rather than reply, Narcissa only arched an eyebrow and gave Rudolphus a look that said "I'm going to my class. I'll see the two of you at dinner." For some reason, her innate understanding of Lucius made him bristle.

The moment she was out of sight, Rudolphus changed the subject. "So, your mother wrote you," he said.

Lucius grunted in acknowledgement.

"Your father's not doing well?"

He sighed. "Why else would she write me like this?"

Rudolphus threw his hands up in exhasperation. "Well, read the note!" he hissed, to which Lucius only shrugged.

"There's no need," he said. "I know what it's going to say. 'Lucius, your father's not well. We need you home to discuss what happens now'. We both knew this was going to happen eventually."

There was a brief silence while both boys stared at the floor. The fact that Rudolphus didn't bother to offer any superficial condolences made Lucius feel slightly better.

"You're lucky," Rudolphus finally said quietly which his friend to look at him in shock.

"Why the hell would you say that?"

Rudolphus smiled slightly. "You're picking up the mantle. Picking up where your father left off. Doing what he did. You're lucky. My mother, she won't let me join yet. Says I'm too young, that I should finish school at least."

"That's what mine told me."

"But now it doesn't matter, because now you're as good as a Death Eater." Lucius looked sharply at him at the careless mention of the name. "Watch it, Rudolphus," he muttered.

But Rudolphus only brushed it off. "I want to be one," he whispered fervently. "I _want_ to do something, to serve the Dark Lord. I'm almost of age! I can twirl a wand, they should let me—"

"Shut up, you idiot!" Lucius hissed loudly. "Are you trying to get the both of us sent in for questioning?"

Rudolphus shrugged, although he did manage to calm down alightly. "Does it matter?" he asked smoothly, "You see the way the look at us. A Lestrange and a Malfoy. Even they aren't Bloody stupid enough not to see it coming."

"Yes, well, I for one would rather not spend an afternoon with the Minister, listening to him drone about why it is important to be a 'good boy'. Ass."

"Still, I think I envy you. If I were you, I'd…you know…_become one_ right away." When Lucius didn't respond, Rudolphus looked shocked. "Well, you _are_ going to, aren't you?"

"He'll likely make me swear it, Father will," Lucius muttered, and anyone but Rudolphus would have picked up on the slightly bitter note in his voice.

"What I wouldn't give to be in your place," he said wistfully. "It's what I've wanted since I was six. Five. Would've joined right then if they'd let me, bypassed this hellhole altogether," he made an ugly snarling noise in his throat. "Tell me you don't think this place is a joke."

"Yes, what a perfect world it would be if everyone had an ailing father. I never tire of wiping his ass every morning."

Rudolphus quirked an eyebrow at him. "All I'm saying, Lucius, is that you're getting your chance. Don't know why you're complaining."

Lucius sighed. "I'm not. Come on; we don't get to History of Magic now and they'll start sending their dirty elves after us."

---

It was during the long boring history lecture that ensued that Lucius finally pulled out his mother's letter and read it for the first time, not that he really needed to. He'd hit the nail on the head in terms of what it said, that Lucius' father would not last long, and that they wanted Lucius back to discuss his future. He didn't have to pretend to wonder what was coming.

Not surprisingly, he then proceeded to remain so distracted and aloof that morning and well into the afternoon that two of his professors offered to send him to the hospital wing, he scared a first year near to tears in the hallway by barking at her to move out of his way when he bumped into her, and he likely failed that Charms exam. Suffice to say, his mood had not improved by the time he muttered a "see you in the common room" to Rudolphus after dinner and trudged off to his appointment with Dumbledore.

The professor himself was as cheery as ever. "Come in, come in. Sit by the fire, it's quite cold outside," he said when Lucius entered the office. "Would you like a lemon drop?"

Lucius glared at the sickly sweet looking confection as if doing so would somehow send a flaming arrow through Dumbledore's head and shook his head wordlessly.

"I insist you take one, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore persisted, "they're quite the treat. If there's anything the Muggles know how to do, it's make sweets."

And so Lucius had a lemon drop.

Taking a handful for himself, the headmaster settled into his chair behind his desk and folded his hands before himself, staring at Lucius knowingly.

"How are you this afternoon, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Giddy," Lucius said. The last thing he wanted to do was to spend time exchanging useless pleasantries with the headmaster.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"Fine, Professor."

"Good, good." The headmaster smiled. "I trust you understand, then, why I called this little chat."

Lucius fixed his eyes on Dumbledore's nose and said nothing.

"And that you have already taken the time to read your mother's letter. I apologize—this is short notice, you haven't had proper time to grieve yet, but I assure you, there is no better time for this than the present."

Silence, as the headmaster calmly surveyed a scowling Lucius.

"To business, then. Firstly, I want to offer my condolences and to wish you and your family well. This can't be an easy time for you."

"I'll manage," Lucius muttered.

"Oh, I don't doubt that you will," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "The Malfoys have shown themselves to have been nothing if not survivors, and I'm certain you are no exception. Which leads me to the second order of business. It's useless to employ insipid euphemisms and for the two of us to sit here saying anything but what we mean, so I will be quite blunt with you. I wish you would offer me that courtesy, as well."

Lucius inclined his head.

Dumbledore paused slightly. "I think I'm correcting in saying that both you and I know that a certain Dark Lord has been very recently on the rise, making his presence in the wizarding world known and gathering supporters." He paused again. "Lord Voldemort."

Lucius' eyes widened at the blatant usage of the name—Dumbledore might as well have dropped the name of a Quidditch star, the way he said it—but he managed to otherwise hide his surprise well.

"This Lord Voldemort, as I'm sure you know, is quite taken with the idea that witches and wizards that are descendants of a line of only those with magical abilities are far superior to those with, as they say, blood less 'pure' running through their veins."

Another pause, as the headmaster's eyes narrowed very slightly as he peered at his student across the writing desk. "I have been headmaster at this school for a very long time now, and I have been teaching here longer than most here have been alive," he said slowly, "and I have in no way observed that this superiority is indeed existent."

"I can't see that this has anything to do with me," Lucius replied, growing impatient.

Dumbledore remained silent for a lengthy period of time, during which Lucius could almost feel the spotlight of the professor's scrutiny on him. "I do hope that truly is the case, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said finally, very quietly, all humor gone from his wizened face now. "I know it can be tempting to believe otherwise, but you need to know that this Voldemort's views and objectives are not ones most wizards hold in high esteem."

Dumbledore lowered his voice even more, although the power evident in it was near-astounding. "He will destroy the world," he said slowly, ominously, "and himself and his followers with it. There is a reason he is called the Dark Lord. There is a reason we fear him. We all need to understand this. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," Lucius replied, forcing himself to meet Dumbledore's clear blue eyes. Again there was a prolonged silence, and again Lucius couldn't help but feel as if Dumbledore could somehow see into his soul.

"Good," the professor said, and the tension in the air dissipated considerably. "I want you to know that should you have any concerns, any hesitancy, that you may always come to see me. I know the gargoyles can be scary, but they're really quite pleasant once you get to know them."

"I'm sure they are," Lucius muttered.

Dumbledore smiled. "Now, is there anything you want to ask me?"

"No, Professor."

"Then I must ask only you remember this conversation, and think about what I said before making any…rash decisions."

"Yes, Professor."

"Good," Dumbledore said, "Your train leaves at midnight. I and the rest of your professors will see you after the holidays. Have a very happy Christmas, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes Professor."

"Take some lemon drops with you before you go."

Lucius took some lemon drops.

---

When he got back to the Slytherin common room, it was to find that it was deserted save for a cluster of second years bent over an astronomy chart in the far corner and Narcissa Black sitting in a plush green armchair turned toward the entrance and wearing a determined look on her elegant face. The moment Lucius walked in, she rose, and glided over to him, taking his bookbag and setting it down onto a coffeetable as an indication that he was not going anywhere soon.

He sighed. "I'm tired, Cissa," he said.

She ignored him and crossed her arms confrontationally. "And I'm tired of trying to wheedle information out of Rudolphus about my own boyfriend, Lucius. How long are you going to avoid telling me what happened?"

"Well, I was shooting for the end of the millennium, but seeing as that's only a few decades away—"

"Don't be an ass, Lucius."

He turned away from her, but she caught hold of his arm with a grip that was surprisingly firm. He mentally threw up his arms. "I'm not avoiding you, Cissa. I just—"

"You are. You are avoiding me, Lucius. You sat next to _Flounder_ at dinner so there wouldn't be room next to you for me. You despise that girl."

"It was either there or with the Hufflepuffs."

"You haven't been in the common room at all until now--"

"I've been busy, Cissa. Stop nagging."

"—And you didn't meet me after Charms like you always do."

"Narcissa—"

"Were you just going to leave? Scribble me a note, maybe? 'I'll see you in January, Narcissa. Love, Lucius'?"

"_No._"

She closed her eyes briefly in exasperation. "I just want to know what's going on in my boyfriend's life. I think I have that right, Lucius."

"You do."

Narcissa let out a small cry of frustration. "Then _tell_ me, Lucius."

"Maybe I would have told you sooner if you hadn't been so meddlesome," he snapped at her, eliciting glances from the second years in the corner.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow at them, fixing them with such a dangerous look that they exchanged glances and quickly scurried away, leaving the two of them alone. She sighed and stared at Lucius knowingly.

"I know that's not true, Lucius. I know you. For God's sake, I've known you since we were five, I think I can tell when it's something else that's bothering you."

He looked down at the ground, defeated but slightly impressed at her response. It wasn't often that he got to see this side of her—practical, direct, and perfectly reasonable. Honestly, he thought it was a side she should really consider unleashing more often.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the note, and quietly handed it to her. Narcissa took it wordlessly; her clear blue eyes glossed quickly over the few elegantly scripted lines before lifting to meet Lucius'.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He looked away. "Don't be. It's been coming for a while now."

"What did Dumbledore say?"

"Not to 'make any rash decisions'. Asked me to see him if I needed anything."

At this Narcissa let out a small laugh, throwing back her beautiful waterfall of hair as she did so. Despite himself, Lucius chuckled a bit as well.

"If there's one thing I know for sure," he said, "it's that I won't be going to that inane old man anytime soon."

Narcissa sobered immediately. "So what does this mean?" she asked quietly.

"It means my father's dying. It means I'm now _the_ Mr. Malfoy."

"Are you going to…?"

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "It's what I've always wanted. It's what I always knew was down the road for me."

"But?"

Dammit, she knew him too well. It was almost frightening. "But nothing," he ground out.

Narcissa didn't budge; she merely stared back at him with her piercing blue eyes. Lucius sighed.

"I'm sixteen," he said. "It is the right time, I know it is. I want to do this. I just…I'm not sure."

"Everything's changing," she said softly.

"Yes."

She paused. "I'm scared for you."

Lucius reached out and took her delicate hand in his, drawing her closer to him. She was like a flower, this girl. So soft, so elegant. Vibrant. But oh, so poisonous at times. She could cajole someone into doing anything. Seduce a man into her bed only to rip out his heart and throw it to the curb. Sometimes even Lucius was scared of her. Sometimes he thought he hated her. But oh, she was so beautiful.

"Can I convince you otherwise?" he said gently, smiling for her. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes looking unusually bright, but Lucius knew she wouldn't cry. She was too proud for that. She always had been. In his whole life, the whole time he'd known her, he didn't think he had ever seen her cry. Not when her mother had died, not when her sister had proven an embarrassment to the Blacks, and certainly not now.

"I'll be fine, Cissa," he said, "you don't have to be scared for me."

She shook her head as if to clear it, and said, "I know. I know you'll be fine."

"Good."

She swallowed and tilted her chin up, recovering some of her usual haughtiness and confidence. "You're ready to do this then?"

Lucius opened his mouth to assure her that yes, he was ready, but somehow he couldn't say it. Instead, he set his jaw determinedly. "Ready or not," he said, "it's something I have to do."

Narcissa nodded. "I'll be here," she said.

"I know." She'd always been there. Always. Ever since Lucius had been five years old and her parents had brought her, defiant, to Malfoy Manor and she had kicked him for pulling her hair. He'd always known, ever since that moment, that he would marry her, and he thought she'd always known too. They weren't the most loving of couples; they never snogged in the hallways, and he'd never sent him flowers or love letters, but they shared a deep understanding that went far beyond merely love.

"Send me an owl over break?" Narcissa asked, toying with her hair.

"I will," he replied.

"Good," she said, and then added, after a pause, "Don't pack your blue robes. You really shouldn't wear any blue; it doesn't suit you."

"Narcissa—"

"And I _do_ expect you to visit me, no matter how busy you are."

Lucius drew the corners of his mouth up in what could have been a grin. "I will."

"Fine." She raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze for one last moment, and her expression softened. "Lucius, I…" She smiled at him, a smile that he returned, giving her hand one last squeeze.

"I know, Narcissa," he said, "Me too."

---

The dormitory was already full of soft snores and grunts by the time Lucius returned to it. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the tarnished silver serpents on the wall, the faded green draperies around the beds, the cold hard stone floor. This place—just as Rudolphus had said—a joke.

But Lucius had lived here for what seemed like most of his life. He had learned and laughed here. Sulked for hours here. Plotted for hours here.

He remembered Narcissa's softly spoken words. _Everything's changing._

Everything's changing. Everything. Changing.

Lucius wondered that he didn't particulary feel any joy at this moment; he hadn't been lying, after all, when he'd told Narcissa that he'd been longing for this moment all his life. Just as Rudolphus had. Just as Lucius' own father had.

Lucius closed his eyes briefly. Immediately he saw as if it had been engraved upon his inner eyelids, a coiled silver serpent, huge and dangerous, ready to strike. It was coming for him.

He smiled.

---

**I admit, I was losing material by the end and I really, really didn't feel like proofing twice like I normally do, so you'll just have to pretend I did a wonderful job on this. **

**I think the hardest part of doing this is remaining true to character. I tried to represent them as close to the way JKR does as possible, but the thing is, in this fanfic they're considerably younger than JKR ever portrays them. They're young. But they're still Lucius, Narcissa, Snape, Bellatrix, etc. See the dilemma? So then comes the balancing of youthful awkwardness, recklessness, and immaturity with Omgfuturedeatheater! Let me tell you, it was not easy. But it was fun.**

**Little mistakes everywhere, I'm sure. I didn't really feel like going back to check unnecessary facts like everyone's eye color, room décor, classes, etc. **

**Drop a review, please. **

**(Hint: it might make me want to finish my next oneshot faster. And said oneshot will be a little…higher rated than what I've been doing.)**


	2. Escapade, Almost, in a Broom Closet

_She stumbled down the halls, hair flying, robes and skirt a mess, nearly decapitating several unfortunate first years in the process. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't act. She had to get away. Get away._

_There, a deserted hallway. Nothing here but a suit of armor, a deserted painting. And quiet, a respite from the mindless chatter of students. A nondescript wood door at the end of the hall—what was behind it? Brooms and dustpans? Spare sheets and pillows? _

_She nearly collided into the door, and not stopping to catch her breath, grabbed the tarnished bronze handle and wrenched it open._

_Silence, save for her own breathing—panting, more like—and the thudding of her heart. And then—_

"Lily!?_"_

_--- _

**Author's Note:**

**If you're here searching for some brain food, turn away. If you're here for something with a plot that's more than the equivalent of three planks of wood nailed together as a boat, look again. If you want something with meaning, with substance, you can stop here. **

**However, if you don't mind plotless fun wrapped up in a slightly smutty, slightly romance-y shell, then by all means, keep reading. That's pretty much all I have to say today—travesty, I know!**

**Oh, I do know what I wanted to say: this does contain a tiny (more than tiny?) amount of sexual stuff. I say tiny, but I do have a very dirty mind, so I wouldn't trust my judgment on this. But in my opinion, it isn't much. Then again, it is essentially all this is. **

---

**Escapade (Almost) in a Broom Closet**

_TasteofCinnamon_

"Severus?"

He had nearly had a heart attack when his blissful peace was disturbed without warning and the door of the small closet he had been taking shelter in was flung open to reveal a distraught, disheveled, and beautiful Lily Evans. Gods, she looked as if she had been out flying, all windswept and flushed. And oh, oh _so_ beautiful. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was—probably as a result of his careful avoidance of her over the past year.

Severus swallowed, waiting for her to explain herself, but she only stood in the door, wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at him.

"What—what are you doing here, Lily?"

She remained stock still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Severus forced himself to look anywhere but there, and suddenly realized how ridiculous he must look, sprawled stupidly upon the floor while she stood above him. He scrambled up with as much dignity as he could muster, brushing his dusty robes down as he did so while she did nothing but follow him with her incredible green eyes.

"Lily?"

And then she crumbled. Hands gesturing vaguely, Lily Evans burst into tears before him, sinking to her knees on the cold floor. Severus blinked, his own heart thudding.

"What…?" he asked. When she didn't reply, he pulled the door closed behind them and kneeled down before her, pulling her hands away from where she held them in front of her face. She was babbling now, sobbing and hiccupping incoherently, and he had to strain to understand her.

"I…he. He didn't….always…he _always_…I can't…oh God, I…I can't…He…"

"He?" Severus repeated, "_what_ he?"

"I hate him—I hate him!"

Severus fought the urge to run his hands through her hair. "Hate who? Lily, hate who?"

"James," she whispered. "James."

Oh. _Oh_. Him. How could he have been so stupid not to see it? Who else but Bloody James Potter? It had never been anyone but him. _He _had won her heart. _He _had taken her away. And now she was crying because of him. Severus ground his teeth together in anger.

"What did he do, Lily?" he said as soothingly as he could, "He's a prick, he's worthless. Oh Lily, don't—don't cry. Don't cry for him."

But she was shaking her head over and over again, ignoring everything he had said. "No. I don't hate him," she whimpered. "I don't. But he—"

"He _what_, Lily?"

Abruptly Lily quieted and she finally raised her tearstained face to Severus, making his breath catch in his throat. She seemed to finally realize where she was, what she was doing, and who she was with.

"Severus?" she said so quietly he had to read her lips.

"Yes," he replied, desperately trying to find something to do with his hands which were threatening to take on a life of their own. "Yes it's Severus, Lily."

"Severus," she softly repeated after him, her brilliant eyes staring frighteningly into his black ones.

"Lily, what did James do?"

She shook her head slightly. "Not James," she whispered.

Severus opened his mouth to tell her to calm down, to ask her again what was wrong, but he was forestalled when Lily raised her hand. Surprised, his eyes darted to it, and he jerked when it found its way onto his face. Hardly daring to breathe, he raised his eyes back to Lily's face.

She had taken on a strange, soft expression, one that he had never seen on her. Frightened, confused, Severus tried to pull back, but the closet was too small. He could go nowhere.

"Severus," Lily whispered again, and then her face was drawing closer to his, and her eyes had fluttered to a close.

Oh God. He knew what was coming now. He should pull back. He should stop her. Oh Gods, he _knew_ what she was doing. How long has he waited for this? Pined for this? Dreamed of this? But this—this wasn't right. He shouldn't be doing this. But she had surely cast a spell over him—she was so smart, so wonderful, he hardly doubted she could—and he couldn't move, couldn't do anything but tremble so violently it was a wonder he didn't spontaneously combust right there in front of her. Unwittingly, Severus felt his own eyes close as he felt her sweet breath on his face—he had stopped breathing long ago.

He jerked viciously when he felt her lips brush against hers, the force of his sudden movement almost dislodging them, and then he was…no, he couldn't be…he _was_! He was kissing Lily Evans. His Lily Evans.

Severus' eyes snapped open.

No. Not his Lily. Potter's Lily. He couldn't do this. _Damn_ James Potter. Severus would have gladly stolen Lily right then and there, would have grabbed her and ran off into the sunset, but somewhere deep inside he knew that she couldn't belong to him. She would leave him, hurt him, and the longer he let himself believe she could be his, the harder he would hit the ground when she finally left him.

And that she would leave him, he had no doubt.

Mustering all of his self control and damning Life, Fate, everything, Severus pushed her away.

She fell back, eyes wide.

"Go back to Potter," he muttered as cruelly as he could, turning away from her.

"Severus."

"Leave me alone," he growled.

But she was on him again in an instant like a wild thing, like a waterfall, a flame. Her hands, her hair, her lips. He couldn't think—she was poison. Sweet, sweet poison. Lily ran her tongue across his closed lips, begging for access, he felt them open of their own accord, and then her tongue was in his mouth, probing for his own tongue, and her taste was washing into him, her smell wafting over him.

He was burning. Burning. She was a siren in disguise, this girl, normally so neat, so perfect. He was powerless, incensed. He needed her. Needed her on him, around him, against him. He could feel nothing but the mad push of her body against his, think about nothing but how much he wanted her.

No. Nonono. _NO_. _Stop her, Severus. Don't let yourself get more hurt than you already are. _

"Severus," Lily breathed against him, pulling her mouth away for an instant. Damn it all, would she ever stop whispering his name like that? Did she not know what it did to him?

"No," he panted, unable to do little more than say that word.

"Severus," she said, and suddenly he realized that her hands were no longer running through his hair, caressing his face. Where—oh. Oh man.

He threw his head back, groaning as he felt her delicate fingers against him, against him _there_, dancing over him and incensing him to madness.

"No," he hissed on a moan.

Her deft fingers moved to fumble at his belt.

"_NO_." Choking back an animalistic growl, Severus pulled away for the second time, grabbing her hands away from his groin and pushing her away so forcefully that she hit the opposite wall of the small closet. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised it didn't tear straight through his chest, and he felt tight and raw and needing everywhere.

Lily's own breath was ragged and uneven, but now she was staring at him with disbelief and realization on her face.

"Oh God," she breathed.

"Lily—"

"Oh _God_. Oh my _God_."

Severus reached out for her, but she was already pulling her robes down around her and scrambling to a stand. He followed likewise and stepped as close as he could—she was now like a frightened doe, one false move and she would bolt.

"Severus, I—I'm—"

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Lily."

"I'm sorry, Severus," she beseeched him pleadingly, "I don't know what I was thinking. I just…I would never have done this if…"

_If you had been in your right mind,_ he thought bitterly, _if _he_ hadn't driven you to it. _

She would never have kissed him, much less had sex with him, if she hadn't been distraught. Severus fought the physical need to double over with the pain and longing that shot through him at the thought. Instead, he said, "I know. It's okay, Lily. I understand."

Lily nodded, gulping and looking anywhere but at him. "I—I should go," she said meekly after a painful silence.

_Back to _him. _Please Don't go._

"Alright," he said.

"I'm sorry."

_I love you, Lily. _"Don't be."

"I'll—I'll see you around then, Severus."

_No. No. Stay. _"Okay."

Lily managed a small smile, and for an instant Severus thought he saw a glint of reluctance and wistfulness in her eyes, but the moment he caught it, she turned away.

"Goodbye, Severus."

"Goodbye, Lily."

And then she was gone.

Severus slumped against the wall, his heart still drumming painfully inside his chest as an overwhelming sense of loss, pain, and loneliness rushed over him. He hated to think what he would feel if he hadn't managed to stop her when he did. It already felt like he had lost the world. Unbelievably hollow. Unbelievably broken. And worse of all, so, _so_ alone.

"I love you Lily," Severus whispered.

And fought back bitter tears as his words were swallowed up by the emptiness before him.

---

**See? Plotless can too be fun. **

**And now that I'm officially out of new oneshot ideas—unsurprising, my mind has been working overtime recently—I'm open to suggestions, requests, and generous donations of plotbunnies.**

**The review button wants you to click it. **


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